


Murder on the Polar Express

by Lepo



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Polar Express - All Media Types, Rankin-Bass Holiday Specials
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/F, M/M, Multiple Crossovers, angst later on, buckle in, this is gonna be stupid and insanely long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepo/pseuds/Lepo
Summary: 20 strangers find themselves on a mysterious northbound train, and are informed by a mysterious Conductor that the only way to leave the train is to kill another and get away with the crime. Along the way, each learns that their circumstances are somehow connected to the Christmas holiday. Will these characters find a way to overcome their obstacles, or will their Christmas spirit fall in the face of overwhelming despair?A Dangan Ronpa-style fanfiction, featuring characters from Christmas-themed media.





	1. Profiles

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover between multiple Christmas-themed pieces of media, thrown together into a Dangan Ronpa-style game of murder. There's no direct correlation between this work of fiction and the Dangan Ronpa series, outside of the format and a few specific tropes (i.e. stylized pink blood) and a few shoutouts here and there.
> 
> More tags to come, including characters and relationships that will be shown at a later point in time.
> 
> Very heavily inspired by the Dangan Roleplay Gimmick Rounds, which can be found on Dreamwidth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. sleigh bells ring

According to the clock, it is 11:59 P.M. on the night of December 24th.

Having been awoken by the loud alarm besides his bed, this is the first thing Hans Gruber notices. Certainly an unusual time to set an alarm for, and nothing short of a rude awakening. He is unusually groggy this night, a rarity for such a professional, and that's what leads him to simply watching the clock. It's at this point that he notices four things that startle him. The first being that the clock does not wish to move, and seems content staying perpetually stuck at a minute until Christmas. It can't be broken, because the alarm was functioning correctly, and it certainly couldn't be anything wrong with his perception. After all, he had been staring at the thing for nearly five minutes before reaching this conclusion.

The other three things are exceedingly simple. These are not his clothes, this is not his bed, and he does not feel any pain from having fallen off of a building.

He makes his way to the bathroom, if only to take a look at himself in the mirror. He is relatively disgusted when he takes in his full image, considering that he would _never_ wear these wretched pajamas to bed. A onesie patterned with snowmen -- did his captors seek to _humiliate_ him? He removes the outfit, having only the slightest bit of trouble getting his feet out of the damned thing.

Now having been relieved of his sleepwear prison, Hans has his suspicions confirmed. There are no bumps and no bruises, nothing that would even signify a fall. He doesn't remember hitting the ground, but then again, who would? He considers the possibility that he dreamt up the entire affair, but no plan that meticulous could've been executed only in a vision. These are pressing questions that do not have immediate solutions, and he ponders on them for a considerable amount of time before being interrupted by the floor beneath him shaking.

The shaking seems to urge him towards the nearest window, and he's hit with a blast of cool air upon opening it. It's hard to make out anything in the considerable darkness, but the sounds are unmistakable.

He was on a bloody _train._

This revelation causes him to let out a mumbled curse. Someone had certainly absconded with him, but there was a question of _whom_. Still clad in nothing but the candy cane-striped underwear that came with those damned pajamas, Hans finds himself listing possibilities within his head. In the meantime, however, he looks about his surroundings.

The arrangements were...nice, at the very least. For all the gaudiness that the pajamas presented, the rest of the decor was relatively classy. The bed was comfortable enough, and the furniture seemed to indicate that the owner of the locomotive was both relatively well-off and had a sense of style. It was a pity that Hans would have to put two bullets between his eyes for this whole affair.

The desk drawers are searched through, pulling little things of importance. There are pens and some scrap paper, some spare underwear and socks, and...yes, his suit is there. Excellent. He quickly changes into the outfit, hoping it'll serve as a palette cleanser to whatever the hell those pajamas were.

What really catches his eye, however, is the device laying on the bedside table. Taking note of the fact that the clock _still_ hadn't changed, Hans grabs the device and begins to investigate it.

It takes a small amount of time to figure the thing out, but eventually, he does so. The device's screen greets him with **"Hans Gruber - Super Holiday Level Mastermind** , and he scoffs. At least they knew who they were dealing with, despite the gibberish involved in the phrase "Super Holiday Level".

Navigating the device, he finds that there is a section for _"Rules"_ that hadn't yet been uploaded. But more importantly, he finds a section marked _"Profiles."_ This is where his curiosity reaches a peak.

He finds his own profile first, taking note of the information present within it. The things disclosed within it were harmless enough to the naked eye, albeit a bit too disturbingly accurate. He silently scrolls through the profiles, losing interest as he goes on. Most of the information presented here seemed to be gibberish or archetypal representations of American Christmas traditions. There was the occasional _person_ , but the majority of these people seemed to be lunatics. He gets a good laugh out of the clown-nosed individual, and the man whose name quite literally translated to "Mayor Mayor". But, eventually, he stops on one name.

"...Bob. Cratchit." Hans spits out eventually, conveying truckloads of disbelief and disgust within those two words.

He's mostly concerned that "Bob Cratchit", according to his picture, is a cartoon frog. There were many things that Hans Gruber refused to even acknowledge within this world, and the possibility of anthropomorphic amphibians were perhaps at the top of that list. He pockets the device, and prepares to exit his room. Taking one last look in the mirror before he goes, he notices something that he hadn't before.

There's a note pinned to the mirror.

-

_“Attention, Polar Express Passenger! Thanks to a recent change in management, you have been selected for the maiden voyage of our rechristened train! There are eight beautiful cars available to you, and we hope that you make the most of them during your (potentially indefinite) stay with us! Each of you has been given a special title to signify your importance to us, and information regarding our voyage can be found within the personal tablet devices on your nightstand. I would highly recommend keeping your tablet on your person at all times, and refer to it whenever you have questions in relation to the operation of the train._

_As soon as you wake up, please make your way to the communal area. There is a map of the train accessible through the device, so as to help you accomplish this task. Once everybody has congregated there, we will be discussing the rules of your trip, so do not be late!_

_Thank you for your cooperation, and Happy Holidays!_

**_\- The Conductor_ ** _”_

_

Bernard the Elf is already in a panic when he wakes up here, and all the note does is send him into a blind fury.

This was the very _last_ thing he needed on his plate right now. Behind quota, saddled with a Santa Claus who hated the Santa Clause and now this crap? Oh, no. Not today. Perhaps this would've flown on Easter, or even Halloween. But certainly not on Thanksgiving and most definitely not this close to Christmas. The man had a job to do, and there was no way he was letting some condescending Conductor get away with it. He grinds his teeth and sets out for the specified car.

He takes note of the people he sees as he marches towards the communal area, each of them lost and confused with _absolutely nobody he recognized present in any form._ Oh, this was just peachy. Just the best. Bernard grumbles, and grumbles, and he practically has steam boiling out of his ears by the time he reaches the communal car. It's this anger that has him nearly ignore the voice calling out to him.

"Yo."

It's met with silence from Bernard.

"Yo!"

"Can you not see that I'm just a _little_ bit agitated at the moment?" Bernard turns to the owner of the voice, practically exploding with rage.

The young woman calling out to him draws back, a bit unsettled by this turn of events. She's clad in an elf uniform similar to Bernard's own, albeit more colorful and tacky. There are more bright reds and greens in her outfit as opposed to his subdued colors. It's a heavy contrast. His outfit looks like something you might find in _Elf Vogue_ , while her uniform looks more like Christmas had a bad night and threw up all over itself. It takes her a second to recover, but eventually, she responds.

"...Okaaaaayyy, look. I'm trying to figure out if you're from my store or not."

"Store? What - what store?" He asks, half out of irritation.

"Gimbel's." She replies, still looking him up and down with confusion. "Figured holiday retail would be why _you're_ wearing the getup, but I guess not."

Bernard bites his lip, eyes narrowed. "No, I - look. I...yes. I work at Macy's." He quickly blurts out. If he was going to be stuck here for any period of time, he'd have to blend in so as to preserve Santa's secrets. Quite honestly? 'Retail employee' seems like a better excuse for this outfit than 'Keebler Elf'.

"Oh."

"Manager, though. That's why my whole thing here looks _way_ better compared to your's. They go all out for us."

"Figured as much," she rolls her eyes. "Corporate is probably doing their best to make you guys look like total jackasses."

"Well, they're succeeding, if that's the case."

That lets out the first honest _emotion_ from her, and she cracks the smallest hint of a smile. "Jovie, but you probably already knew that. You're Bernard, right?"

Bernard smirks. "Yeah. Guess I am, sport."

They converse for a bit, before the others begin to pour in. This conversation at least helps Jovie realize that if she's here for an "indefinite stay", that she at least had somebody good for conversation. The rest of the people in the profiles looked kind of deranged - and she definitely didn't believe that there was actually a cartoon frog here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dialogue-writing is a little clunky, so feel free to crit me on that
> 
> next two chapters or so are probably gonna be used for introing more of the characters before stuff actually happens.


End file.
